I keep seeing this jerk everywhere. Every time I turn a corner, every time I glance over my shoulder, he's there—watching. I don't know who he is or what he wants, but the way he lingers, like a shadow that refuses to be shaken, makes my skin crawl. It's getting under my skin, this unspoken game of cat and mouse.
After my usual walk, I end up at the beach, letting the salty breeze wash over me as I stare at the endless stretch of ocean. The waves roll in, crash, and retreat, an endless cycle that should be soothing, but tonight, it does nothing to quiet the unease bubbling inside me.
By the time I get home, silence fills the space between us like a thick fog. No words, no conversation—just the occasional glance before we both retreat to our own corners of the world. That is, until August
